Part 12

So, when we God and angels do conceiue, And thinke of _truth_, which is eternall too; Then doe our minds immortall formes receiue, Which if they mortall were, they could not doo:

And as, if beasts conceiu'd what Reason were, And that conception should distinctly show, They should the name of _reasonable_ beare; For without _Reason_, none could _Reason_ know:

So, when the _Soule_ mounts with so high a wing, As of eternall things she _doubts_ can moue; Shee proofes of her eternitie doth bring, Euen when she striues the contrary to proue.

For euen the _thought_ of immortalitie, Being an act done without the bodie's ayde; Shewes, that her selfe alone could moue and bee, Although the body in the graue were layde.

THAT THE SOULE CANNOT BE DESTROYED.

And if her selfe she can so liuely moue, And neuer need a forraine helpe to take; Then must her motion euerlasting proue, "Because her selfe she neuer can forsake.

HER CAUSE CEASETH NOT.

_But though_ corruption cannot touch the minde, By any cause that from it selfe may spring; Some outward cause Fate hath perhaps designd, Which to the _Soule_ may vtter quenching bring.

SHE HATH NO CONTRARY.

_Perhaps_ her cause may cease, and she may die; God is her _cause_, His _Word_ her Maker was; Which shall stand fixt for all eternitie When Heauen and Earth shall like a shadow passe.

_Perhaps_ some thing repugnant to her kind, By strong _antipathy_, the _Soule_ may kill; But what can be _contrary_ to the minde, Which holds all _contraries_ in concord still?

She lodgeth heat, and cold, and moist, and dry, And life, and death, and peace, and war together; Ten thousand fighting things in her doe lye, Yet neither troubleth, or disturbeth either.

SHEE CANNOT DIE FOR WANT OF FOOD.

_Perhaps_ for want of food the _soule_ may pine; But that were strange, sith all things _bad_ and _good_, Sith all God's creature's _mortall_ and _diuine_, Sith _God Himselfe_, is her eternall food.

Bodies are fed with things of mortall kind, And so are subiect to mortalitie; But _Truth_ which is eternall, feeds the mind; The _Tree of life_, which will not let her die.

VIOLENCE CANNOT DESTROY HER.

_Yet violence_, perhaps the _Soule_ destroyes: As lightning, or the _sun-beames_ dim the sight; Or as a thunder-clap, or cannons' noyse, The power of hearing doth astonish quite.

But high perfection to the _Soule_ it brings, T' encounter things most excellent and high; For, when she views the best and greatest things They do not hurt, but rather cleare her[149] eye,

Besides,--as _Homer's gods_ 'gainst armies stand,-- Her subtill forme can through all dangers slide; _Bodies are captiue_, _minds_ endure no band, "And Will is free, and can no force abide.

TIME CANNOT DESTROY HER.

_But lastly_, _Time_ perhaps at last hath power To spend her liuely powers, and quench her light; But old god _Saturne_ which doth all deuoure, Doth cherish her, and still augment her might.

Heauen waxeth old, and all the _spheres_ aboue Shall one day faint, and their swift motion stay; And _Time_ it selfe in time shall cease to moue; _Onely the Soule suruives_, and liues for aye.

"Our Bodies, euery footstep that they make, "March towards death, vntill at last they die; "Whether we worke, or play, or sleepe, or wake, "Our life doth passe, and with _Time's_ wings doth flie:

But to the _Soule_ Time doth perfection giue, And ads fresh lustre to her beauty still; And makes her in eternall youth to liue, Like her which nectar to the gods doth fill.[150]

The more she liues, the more she feeds on _Truth_; The more she feeds, her _strength_ doth more increase: And what is _strength_, but an effect of _youth_? Which if _Time_ nurse, how can it euer cease?

[Footnote 149: Thomas Davies and Southey, as before, misread 'the.' G.]

OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE IMMORTALITIE OF THE SOULE.

_But now_ these _Epicures_ begin to smile, And say, my doctrine is more false then true; And that I fondly doe my selfe beguile, While these receiu'd opinions I ensue.

[Footnote 150: Hebe. G.]

OBJECTION I.

For what, say they, doth not the _Soule_ waxe old? How comes it then that agèd men doe dote; And that their braines grow sottish, dull and cold, Which were in youth the onely spirits of note?

What? are not _Soules_ within themselues corrupted? How can there idiots then by nature bee? How is it that some wits are interrupted, That now they dazeled are, now clearely see?

ANSWERE.

_These questions_ make a subtill argument, To such as thinke both _sense_ and _reason_ one; To whom nor agent, from the instrument, Nor power of working, from the work is known.

But they that know that wit can shew no skill, But when she things in _Sense's glasse_ doth view; Doe know, if accident this glasse doe spill, It _nothing sees_, or _sees the false for true_.

For, if that region of the tender braine, Where th' inward sense of Fantasie should sit, And the outward senses gatherings should retain, By Nature, or by chance, become vnfit;

Either at first vncapable it is, And so few things, or none at all receiues; Or mard by accident, which haps amisse And so amisse it euery thing perceiues.

Then, as a cunning prince that vseth _spyes_, If they returne no newes doth nothing know; But if they make aduertisement of lies, The Prince's Counsel all awry doe goe.

Euen so the _Soule_ to such a body knit, Whose inward senses vndisposèd be, And to receiue the formes of things vnfit; Where nothing is brought in, can nothing see.

This makes the idiot, which hath yet a mind, Able to _know_ the truth, and _chuse_ the good; If she such figures in the braine did find, As might be found, if it in temper stood.

But if a _phrensie_ doe possesse the braine, It so disturbs and blots the formes of things; As Fantasie prooues altogether vaine, And to the Wit no true relation brings.

Then doth the Wit, admitting all for true, Build fond[151] conclusions on those idle grounds; Then doth it flie the good, and ill pursue, Beleeuing all that this false _spie_ propounds.

But purge the humors, and the rage appease, Which this distemper in the fansie wrought; Then shall the _Wit_, which never had disease, Discourse, and iudge discreetly, as it ought.

So, though the clouds eclipse the _sunne's_ faire light, Yet from his face they doe not take one beame; So haue our eyes their perfect power of sight, Euen when they looke into a troubled streame.

Then these defects in _Senses'_ organs bee, Not in the _soule_ or in her working might; She cannot lose her perfect power to see, Thogh mists and clouds do choke her window light.

These imperfections then we must impute, Not to the agent but the instrument; We must not blame _Apollo_, but his lute, If false accords from her false strings be sent.

The _Soule_ in all hath one intelligence; Though too much moisture in an infant's braine, And too much drinesse in an old man's sense, Cannot the prints of outward things retaine:

Then doth the _Soule_ want worke, and idle sit, And this we _childishnesse_ and _dotage_ call; Yet hath she then a quicke and actiue Wit, If she had stuffe and tooles to worke withall:

For, giue her organs fit, and obiects faire; Giue but the aged man, the young man's sense; Let but _Medea_, _Æson's_ youth repaire,[152] And straight she shewes her wonted excellence.

As a good harper stricken farre in yeares, Into whose cunning hand the gowt is fall;[153] All his old crotchets in his braine he beares, But on his harpe playes ill, or not at all.

But if _Apollo_ takes his gowt away, That hee his nimble fingers may apply; _Apollo's_ selfe will enuy at his play, And all the world applaud his minstralsie.

Then _dotage_ is no weaknesse of the mind, But of the _Sense_; for if the mind did waste, In all old men we should this wasting find, When they some certaine terme of yeres had past:

But most of them, euen to their dying howre, Retaine a mind more liuely, quicke, and strong; And better vse their vnderstanding power, Then when their braines were warm, and lims were yong.

For, though the body wasted be and weake, And though the leaden forme of earth it beares; Yet when we heare that halfe-dead body speake, We oft are rauisht to the heauenly _spheares_.

[Footnote 151: Foolish. G.]

[Footnote 152: Ovid, _Met._ vii. 163, 250 _et alibi_. G.]

[Footnote 153: _Sic_: and also onward. G.]

OBJECTION II.

Yet say these men, If all her organs die, Then hath the _soule_ no power her powers to vse; So, in a sort, her powers extinct doe lie, When vnto _act_ shee cannot them reduce.

And if her powers be dead, then what is shee? For sith from euery thing some powers do spring, And from those powers, some _acts_ proceeding bee, Then kill both _power_ and _act_, and kill the _thing_.

ANSWERE.

_Doubtlesse_ the bodie's death when once it dies, The instruments of sense and life doth kill; So that she cannot vse those faculties, Although their root rest in her substance still.

But (as the body liuing) _Wit_ and _Will_ Can _iudge_ and _chuse_, without the bodie's ayde; Though on such obiects they are working still, As through the bodie's organs are conuayde:

So, when the body serues her turne no more, And all her _Senses_ are extinct and gone, She can discourse of what she learn'd before, In heauenly contemplations, all alone.

So, if one man well on a lute doth play, And haue good horsemanship, and Learning's skill; Though both his lute and horse we take away, Doth he not keep his former learning still?

He keepes it doubtlesse, and can vse it to[o]; And doth both th' other _skils_ in power retaine; And can of both the proper actions doe, If with his lute or horse he meet againe.

So (though the instruments by which we liue, And view the world, the bodie's death doe kill;)[154] Yet with the body they shall all reuiue, And all their wonted offices fulfill.

OBJECTION III.

_But how_, till then, shall she herselfe imploy? Her spies are dead which brought home newes before; What she hath got and keepes, she may enioy, But she hath meanes to vnderstand no more.

Then what do those poore _soules_, which nothing get? Or what doe those which get, and cannot keepe? Like buckets[155] bottomlesse, which all out-let Those _Soules_, for want of exercise, must sleepe.

ANSWERE.

_See how_ man's _Soule_ against it selfe doth striue: Why should we not haue other meanes to know? As children while within the wombe they liue, Feed by the nauill: here they feed not so.

These children, if they had some vse of sense, And should by chance their mothers' talking heare; That in short time they shall come forth from thence, Would feare their birth more then our death we feare.

They would cry out, 'If we this place shall leaue, Then shall we breake our tender nauill strings; How shall we then our nourishment receiue, Sith our sweet food no other conduit brings?'

And if a man should to these babes reply, That into this faire world they shall be brought; Where they shall see the Earth, the Sea, the Skie, The glorious Sun, and all that God hath wrought:

That there ten thousand dainties they shall meet, Which by their mouthes they shall with pleasure take; Which shall be cordiall too, as wel as sweet, And of their little limbes, tall bodies make:

This would[156] they thinke a fable, euen as we Doe thinke the _story_ of the _Golden Age_; Or as some sensuall spirits amongst vs bee, Which hold the _world to come, a fainèd stage_:

Yet shall these infants after find all true, Though then thereof they nothing could conceiue; As soone as they are borne, the world they view, And with their mouthes, the nurses'-milke receiue.

So, when the _Soule_ is borne (for Death is nought But the _Soule's_ birth, and so we should it call) Ten thousand things she sees beyond her thought, And in an vnknowne manner knowes them all.

Then doth she see by spectacles no more, She heares not by report of double spies; Her selfe in instants doth all things explore, For each thing present, and before her, lies.

[Footnote 154: The parenthetic marks are as _supra_: but perhaps they ought to begin at 'by' and end with 'world.' G.]

[Footnote 155: Davies and Southey, as before, oddly misprint 'bucklers.' G.]

[Footnote 156: Misprinted 'world,' but corrected in the errata of 1622 edition. Davies and Southey, as before, repeat the misprint, and accommodate 'they' to it by reading 'they'd:' so rare is it to recur to an author's own text. G.]

OBJECTION IV.

_But still_ this crue with questions me pursues: If _soules_ deceas'd (say they) still liuing bee; Why do they not return, to bring vs newes Of that strange world, where they such wonders see?[157]

[Footnote 157:

'Tell us, ye dead, will none of you in pity, To those you left behind, disclose the secret?

Oh! that some courteous ghost would blab it out; What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be.'

ROBERT BLAIR: 'The Grave.' G.]

ANSWERE.

_Fond[158] men!_ If we beleeue that men doe liue Vnder the _Zenith_ of both frozen _Poles_, Though none come thence aduertisement to giue; Why beare we not the like faith of our _soules_?

The _soule_ hath here on Earth no more to doe, Then we haue businesse in our mother's wombe; What child doth couet to returne thereto? Although all children first from thence do come?

But as _Noah's_ pidgeon, which return'd no more, Did shew, she footing found, for all the Flood; So when good soules, departed through Death's dore, Come not againe, it shewes their dwelling good.

And doubtlesse, such a _soule_ as vp doth mount, And doth appeare before her Maker's Face; Holds this vile world in such a base account, As she looks down, and scorns this wretched place.

But such as are detruded downe to Hell, Either for shame, they still themselues retire; Or tyed in chaines, they in close prison dwell, And cannot come, although they much desire.

[Footnote 158: Foolish. G.]

OBJECTION V.

_Well, well_, say these vaine spirits, though vaine it is To thinke our _Soules_ to Heauen or Hell to[159] goe, _Politike_ men haue thought it not amisse, To spread this _lye_, to make men vertuous so.

ANSWERE.

_Doe you_ then thinke this _morall vertue_ good? I thinke you doe, euen for your priuate gaine; For Common-wealths by _vertue_ euer stood, And common good the priuate doth containe.

If then this _vertue_ you doe loue so well, Haue you no meanes, her practise to maintaine; But you this lye must to the people tell, That good _Soules_ liue in ioy, and ill in paine?

Must _vertue_ be preseruèd by a _lye_? _Vertue_ and _Truth_ do euer best agree; By this it seemes to be a veritie, Sith the effects so good and vertuous bee.

For, as the deuill father is of lies, So vice and mischiefe doe his lyes ensue; Then this good doctrine did not he deuise, But made this _lye_, which saith it is not true.

[Footnote 159: In 1599 and 1608 editions, 'do.' G.]

THE GENERALL CONSENT OF ALL.

_For how_ can that be false, which euery tongue Of euery mortall man affirmes for true? Which truth hath in all ages been so strong, As lodestone-like, all hearts it euer drew.

For, not the _Christian_, or the _Iew_ alone, The _Persian_, or the _Turke_, acknowledge this; This mysterie to the wild _Indian_ knowne, And to the _Canniball_ and _Tartar_ is.

This rich _Assyrian_ drugge growes euery where; As common in the _North_, as in the _East_; This doctrine does not enter by the _eare_, But of it selfe is natiue in the breast.

None that acknowledge God, or prouidence, Their _Soule's_ eternitie did euer doubt; For all _Religion_ takes her root from hence, Which no poore naked nation liues without.

For sith the World for Man created was, (For onely Man the vse thereof doth know) If man doe perish like a withered grasse, How doth God's Wisedom order things below?

And if that Wisedom still wise ends propound, Why made He man, of other creatures King? When (if he perish here) there is not found In all the world so poor and vile a thing?

If death do quench vs quite, we haue great wrong, Sith for our seruice all things else were wrought; That _dawes_, and _trees_, and _rocks_, should last so long, When we must in an instant passe to nought.

But blest be that _Great Power_, that hath vs blest With longer life then Heauen or Earth can haue; Which hath infus'd into our mortall breast Immortall powers, not subiect to the graue.

For though the Soule doe seeme her graue to beare, And in this world is almost buried quick; We haue no cause the bodie's death to feare, For when the shell is broke, out comes a chick.

THREE KINDS OF LIFE ANSWERABLE TO THE THREE POWERS OF THE SOULE.

_For_ as the _soule's essentiall_ powers are three, The _quickning power_, the _power of sense_ and _reason_; Three kinds of life to her designèd bee, Which perfect these three[160] powers in their due season.

The first life, in the mother's wombe is spent, Where she her _nursing power_ doth onely vse; Where, when she finds defect of nourishment, Sh' expels her body, and this world she viewes.

This we call _Birth_; but if the child could speake, He _Death_ would call it; and of Nature plaine,[161] That she would thrust him out naked and weake, And in his passage pinch him with such paine.

Yet, out he comes, and in this world is plac't, Where all his _Senses_ in perfection bee; Where he finds flowers to smell, and fruits to taste; And sounds to heare, and sundry formes to see.

When he hath past some time vpon this stage, His _Reason_ then a litle seemes to wake; Which, thogh she spring, when sense doth fade with age, Yet can she here no perfect practise make.

Then doth th' aspiring _Soule_ the body leaue, Which we call _Death_; but were it knowne to all, What _life_ our _soules_ do by this _death_ receiue, Men would it _birth_ or _gaole[162] deliuery_ call.

In this third life, Reason will be so bright, As that her sparke will like the _sun-beames_ shine; And shall of God enioy the reall sight. Being still increast by influence diuine.

[Footnote 160: Numeral '3,' as before, in 1622 edition. G.]

[Footnote 161: _Id est_ 'complain.' G.]

AN ACCLAMATION.

O Ignorant poor man! what dost thou beare Lockt vp within the casket of thy brest? What iewels, and what riches hast thou there! What heauenly treasure in so weake a chest!

Looke in thy _soule_, and thou shalt _beauties_ find, Like those which drownd _Narcissus_ in the flood:[163] _Honour_ and _Pleasure_ both are in thy mind, And all that in the world is counted _Good_.

Thinke of her worth, and think that God did meane, This worthy mind should worthy things imbrace; Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts vnclean, Nor her dishonour with thy passions base;

Kill not her _quickning power_ with surfettings, Mar not her _Sense_ with sensualitie; Cast not her serious[164] wit on idle things: Make not her free-_will_, slaue to vanitie.

And when thou think'st of her _eternitie_, Thinke not that _Death_ against her nature is, Thinke it a _birth_; and when thou goest to die, Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to blisse.[165]

And if thou, like a child, didst feare before, Being in the darke, where thou didst nothing see; Now I haue broght thee _torch-light_, feare no more; Now when thou diest, thou canst not hud-winkt be.

And thou my _Soule_, which turn'st thy curious eye, To view the beames of thine owne forme diuine; Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly, While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine.

Take heed of _ouer-weening_, and compare Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's traine;[166] Study the best, and highest things that are, But of thy selfe an humble thought retaine.

Cast downe thy selfe, and onely striue to raise The glory of thy Maker's sacred Name; Vse all thy powers, that Blessed Power to praise, Which giues thee power to _bee_, and _vse the same_.

[Footnote 162: 'Goale' in 1608 edition. G.]

[Footnote 163: See Ovid, _Met._ III., 341 _et alibi_, and Eustathius (ad Hom. p. 266). G.]

[Footnote 164: 'Serious' dropped by Davies and Southey, as before. G.]

[Footnote 165: Cf. Sir Thomas Browne: 'Vulgar Errors,' _s.v._ G.]

[Footnote 166: More usually applied to the swan: as ancient WORSHIP puts it 'The whitest swanne hath a blacke foot:' 'Christian's Mourning Garment.' G.]

$Finis.$

$Appendix.$

REMARKS PREFIXED TO NAHUM TATE'S EDITION (1697) OF 'NOSCE TEIPSUM.'[167]

There is a natural love and fondness in Englishmen for whatever was done in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. We look upon her time as our golden age; and the great men who lived in it, as our chiefest heroes of virtue, and greatest examples of wisdom, courage, integrity and learning.

[Footnote 167: The Original, Nature, and Immortality of the Soul. A Poem. With an Introduction concerning Humane Knowledge. Written by Sir John Davies, Attorney-General to Q. Elizabeth. With a Prefatory Account concerning the Author and Poem. London, Printed by W. Rogers at the Sun against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet street. 1697'--TATE informs us that the 'Remarks' were 'written by an ingenious and learned Divine'--It will be noticed that they finish somewhat abruptly: and while there is 'account' of the Poem, none of the Author.'--Dr. BLISS, in his edition of Anthony-a-Wood's ATHENÆ, describes above as containing only the second portion: but he is mistaken: the Poem is given completely.]